Accidentally in love
by silver lametta
Summary: What's the secret of the spooky old mansion that makes people fall in love?  Set in an AR where after the Apocalypse Castiel fell and became human; now he's hunting with the boys. Warnings: Lots of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: **Set in an AR. After the Apocalypse Castiel fell and became human; now he's hunting with the boys.

This fic was written for a prompt at Dean/Cas Secret Santa exchange at LJ. It is finished so I will update it soon. I hope you like it. Reviews are love.

xxx

Bright morning light filled the confines of the diner making everything look sharper.

Dean liked mornings. Mornings smelled like coffee and breakfast; mornings were simple – it's hard to hide anything in their exposing light.

He watched his brother frowning thoughtfully across the table - Sam was reading something from the screen of his laptop - Dean could tell by the way his eyes moved. There had been thousands of mornings like this – Sam researching, Dean devouring his breakfast listening to the sounds of the diner buzzing around them. But there was one thing that was still unusual - the person sitting at Dean's side of the booth.

The first thing they found out about Castiel after he had started hunting with them was that Castiel wasn't really a morning person. Dean was sure it was only Castiel's trait, not Jimmy's. First, the poor guy was long gone, second - where have you seen a righteous man who doesn't like mornings?

Castiel was different. He didn't talk much in the mornings, preferring to listen to Dean and Sam, sipping on his black coffee and dropping occasional comments here and there. The ex-angel was still a little indifferent about food, regarding it as a rather irritating necessity to maintain his human body, so he never had breakfast. Dean always insisted that he order one though, hoping that one day Cas would realize 'how awesome' it is. But more often than not Dean ended up eating Castiel's breakfast himself, just like this time.

"Is there anything up our alley?" he asked his brother, munching on the hashbrowns from Castiel's plate.

Without any words, Castiel moved the plate closer to him. Dean smiled at him and took few more.

No matter what Cas thought about mornings, Dean thought he looked good at this time of the day. He still had bed hair –black strands standing at various angles – and his skin looked soft and smooth in the pale sunlight. His eyes studying Dean from above his steaming mug were a bright, clear shade of blue.

Sam's voice distracted Dean from his musings. "Here's what I found. 'Christmas, 1917 was a time of dark despair. American soldiers were dying at an ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe while at home, a deadly strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike. Tragedy was a visitor on every doorstep while a creeping hopelessness set in with every man, woman and child. But here at 1501 Larkspur Lane, for a pair of star-crossed lovers tragedy came not from war or pestilence- not by the boot heel or the bombardier- but by their own innocent hands. His name was Maurice. He was a brooding but heroic young man beloved of Lydia, a sublime beauty with a light that seemed to follow her wherever she went. They were likened to two angels descended from heaven whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, grey earth. Driven by a tragic fear of separation, they forged a lovers' pact so that they might spend eternity together and not spend one precious Christmas apart'." He looked up from the laptop.

"They killed themselves?" Dean asked, finishing his coffee.

Sam nodded. "It's an advertisement. It says here that their house was turned into a museum and anyone who visits it will find 'the love of their life'."

Dean snorted at that. "And what does another Twilight story have to do with us?"

"Well, I've checked the newspapers. Turns out the house is now a local legend. Twenty people claim that they found their 'true love' after visiting it."

Dean shrugged. "It could be a coincidence."

"Wait, you haven't heard the most important part." Sam paused dramatically. "Their bodies were never found," he said victoriously.

"So you think that their ghosts are hanging around and making people fall in love? What kind of ghosts are they anyway?"

"Ghosts of two star-crossed lovers who want other people to have something they couldn't?" Sam suggested. "Ghosts don't necessarily have to be mean; you know that."

"Okay, alright, even if they do make people fall in love or find their true love or whatever… what does that have to do with us? We save people from death, not love." Dean reached out and took another hashbrown from Castiel's plate, chewing thoughtfully.

"I think Sam has a point, Dean," Castiel finally cut in, which meant that the coffee probably worked and finally woke the sleepyhead ex-angel up. "Even if these restless souls do no harm, they still interfere in the natural course of people's lives. Perhaps those people weren't meant to fall in love." Dean wanted to retort, wanted to say that was exactly what Cupid was doing, but didn't. Even though Cas seemed okay with his new life, Dean was still unsure how he would react to the reminder of his family.

"Cas has a point," Sam agreed. "Here's what else I found. It is said here that one guy even left his wife with a three year old child after they visited the museum, claiming that he finally found his significant other. So there is at least one ruined family."

"Again, it could be a coincidence."

"And it could not be. Don't you think we should check? Besides, we don't have anything else at the moment. And it's only a couple hours drive." Sam looked at his brother expectantly.

Dean hesitated. "Okay, let's go check," he finally agreed.

"Don't you think that we should take some precautions first?" Castiel asked. "Make sure it won't affect us?"

"Oh, please." Dean snorted. "You're a dude; Sam is a dude _and_ my brother. What can possibly happen?"

A couple of hours turned out to be the whole day. It was almost midnight when they reached their destination, parking the Impala at 1501 Larkspur Lane. The dark, gothic manor stood separately surrounded by a thicket of overgrowth hugged by low fog.

The night air was chilling to the bone, and Dean regretted they had to leave the relatively warm confines of the car. "You know, Sam, I guess you were right. This place practically screams 'ghosts inside'," he said, jumping over the fence. Sam and Castiel followed behind him.

They went around the house and broke in from the back door. It turned out to be easier than they expected.

Inside, the house smelled like dust and mold; wooden floors creaked with every step they took.

"This is not what I expected from a museum," Castiel said in a low voice. "I thought museums were about pictures and sculptures, not old furniture and cobwebs.

Dean chuckled. "That makes two of us."

"It's a different kind of museum," Sam explained, looking for a switch with his flashlight. "Sometimes people don't want pictures and sculptures. Sometimes they want to see how people lived before, to feel the atmosphere."

"Yeah, to feel the atmosphere of dust and cobwebs," Dean muttered and felt rather than saw Sam rolling his eyes in the dark. To his amusement, he also heard Castiel chuckle softly at the other end of the room. This was another thing he noticed about human Cas. He liked his jokes. Or let himself show that he did.

They divided and searched the house twice, but an hour later they still had nothing.

"Maybe there are no ghosts," Sam finally suggested. "Maybe there is an object, something that belonged to the owners that makes people fall in love."

"The house is full of old crap, Sam; it could be anything," Dean said, kicking the corner of a big dusty fireplace with his boot. "It would take months to find out what it is. We might as well burn the whole house."

"Perhaps that won't be necessary," Castiel said from the opposite side of the living room. He was standing in front of a huge stack of books, studying the worn spines.

"Find anything?" Dean came to stand next to him, looking at the hundreds of books.

"Here." Castiel pointed at one of the spines. "All the books here are placed in alphabetical order. But this one is misplaced."

Dean looked at it. "Hey, you're right."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "I know I am."

"Good news, Sammy, you're not the only nerd on the team," Dean announced over his shoulder.

Castiel ignored him and took the book from the shelf. Suddenly, the whole stack started moving, opening an entry in the wall.

"Turns out even nice ghosts have secrets," Dean muttered, studying the darkness that gaped at them.

Castiel stepped inside and disappeared. Dean wanted to tell him to be careful, but it was too late. He stumbled over something and fell with a muffled sound, sending specks of dust dancing in the beams of Dean's flashlight.

"Cas, you okay?" He stepped inside, careful not to fall himself.

"I'm fine," Castiel informed him from the floor. "And I think I found the star-crossed lovers."

Dean turned the flashlight in the direction of his voice. Castiel was sitting on the floor in a pile of bones, covered in dust and cobwebs all over him.

"Is Cas okay?" Sam asked worriedly, poking his head into the entry.

"Well, he could really use a shower," Dean informed him, offering Castiel a hand. "But otherwise I think he's fine. And say hello to Maurice and Lydia here."

They collected all the bones, making sure nothing was left, and got out of the house. It didn't take much time to burn them, and soon they could leave.

They were already by the Impala when Dean stopped Castiel with a hand on his shoulder. "Wait." Castiel looked at him questioningly. "There is, uh, this stuff is all over your hair." He reached out and shook the dust motes off. Castiel stood still and stared at him, lips slightly parted in surprise which made Dean's hand stop. "What?"

Castiel shook his head. "Nothing, um. Thanks."

Somebody knocked on the motel door. Four short knocks – Sam already knew who it was even before he'd opened it. "Cas? I thought you were asleep."

Castiel walked into the room and looked around. "Where's Dean?"

"He's in shower. Why? Are you okay?" When the light fell on Castiel's face, Sam noticed how pale he was. There was a crease of worry between his eyebrows that hadn't been there a couple of hours ago. "I can call Dean if you want."

Castiel shook his head. "I wanted to talk to you in private." He perched on the edge of Sam's bed, fidgeting uneasily.

"Okay. What about?"

"I think something's wrong with me," Castiel said seriously.

Sam tensed. "What do you mean wrong? Are you hurt?"

Castiel shook his head. "Not really. It's just… I don't feel so good," he said meaningfully, as if Sam had to understand everything himself.

"Are you sick or something?" the hunter tried. "C'mon Cas, you have to help me here. What exactly is wrong?"

Castiel sighed and looked away. "Something happened to me in that house. I think…" he took a deep breath and blurted out, "I think I'm in love with Dean."

At first Sam was sure he misheard. "You… what? Say that again." Cas must have meant something else.

But Castiel lowered his gaze, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the carpet. He was desperately blushing. "You heard me."

"Uh, okay… that's… that's huge," Sam said slowly and sat on the bed next to him. "Are you sure you are?"

Castiel gave him the 'don't be a dumbass' look. "I am certain."

"How can you tell? I mean, sorry, man, but it's not like you are an expert on human emotions."

Castiel sighed. "I spent the whole evening thinking about how his fingers accidently brushed my forehead when he removed the dust from my hair. So yeah, I am pretty sure." His voice was dripping sarcasm.

"Okay, sorry." Sam scratched the back of his head, confused. What do people usually say when a guy who happens to be an ex-angel says he's in love with your brother? There had probably been no precedents.

"I believe I was cursed in that manor. Whatever it is, it's still working. We need to go back and stop it," Castiel said sternly.

"Going back there right now will be useless, Cas. First we need to figure out what it is."

Castiel winced and shook his head. "Sam, I can't wait that long. My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid it will explode. There is an awful feeling in my chest as if somebody is tickling it from the inside." He scratched his chest absently through the fabric of his t-shirt. "And it won't go away." A sudden thought flashed on his face. He looked at Sam with pleading eyes. "Please don't tell Dean about it."

Sam hurried to reassure him. "If you say so. But I don't see why we shouldn't. I mean, it's our case, Cas. Dean should know about it. And it's not your fault. He will understand."

Castiel opened his mouth to object, but the door to the bathroom suddenly opened and Dean appeared in the door frame wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. "Hey, Cas." He grinned at his friend and stepped into the room, rummaging through his belongings in search of fresh clothes.

His arms and chest were covered with water drops that played in the light with every move; his hair was still dripping water.

Castiel didn't reply so Dean turned and looked at him once again. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, Cas says he probably caught a cold," Sam explained, hoping he sounded convincing.

Dean glanced at Castiel again. "You do look a little flustered. Are you sure you don't have a fever?" Before Castiel could reply, Dean approached him and put a hand on his forehead.

Castiel clenched his jaw and waited a beat before muttering in a hoarse voice, "I'm fine."

Dean woke up in the middle of the night. There was somebody in his bed although he clearly remembered falling asleep alone.

With his eyes sill closed, he slowly reached for the knife under his pillow and took hold of the reassuring coolness of the handle.

A second later he jerked up, pressing the intruder to the bed with his elbow, holding the blade at his throat. "Who are you?" The person was squirming under him.

"Dean?" Sam woke up too, and the room filled with light from the lamp on the nightstand. It took Dean's eyes a few seconds to adjust.

"Dean. It's me." A familiar voice sounded from under the sheets.

Dean looked down and blinked twice. "Cas?" Castiel was staring up at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily.

"It's me," he said again. Dean stared at him blankly. "Let go. You're suffocating me."

Slowly Dean removed his elbow and got off Castiel, putting the knife away. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Castiel sat up, freeing his limbs that had gotten tangled in the blanket. "I...couldn't get to sleep." He looked somewhat embarrassed. Dean expected more explanations, but they didn't follow.

"I mean what are you doing _here_? In my friggin' bed! I could have killed you, man. What were you doing?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Dean sounded alarmed. "Cas. Look at me." He grabbed Castiel by the shoulders and lowered his head to look him in the eyes. "Look at me." He shook his shoulders lightly. Their eyes locked. "Do you remember how you got here?"

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "I don't suffer from memory loss if that's what you mean. Or sleepwalking, for that matter."

Dean still looked suspicious. "So you came here on purpose?" Castiel didn't reply. "What did you want?"

"I said I couldn't sleep. I… wanted to see you," he added quietly.

"Okay." Dean relaxed a little. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I didn't say I wanted to talk."

"Um. Okay. So you just wanted to _see_ me?"

Castiel sighed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to wake you up."

Dean tensed again. "Let me get this straight. You wanted to see me…while I sleep?"

It was either a trick of the light or Castiel was desperately blushing. "Yes." He bit his lower lip, turning away.

"Why?" Dean squeezed his shoulders lightly to draw Castiel's attention back to himself.

"Oh, for god's sake!" Sam groaned from his bed, getting tired of them. "Dean, Cas is in love with you."

"Sam!" Castiel growled.

"He's what?" Dean almost shouted.

"What you heard. He's cursed. Whatever was in that house, it's still working."

For a few seconds, Dean just stared from his brother to Castiel and back, stunned. "How long have you known?" He asked Sam.

"Ever since we got back. So not that long."

"And neither of you took the time to tell me?" Irritation was starting to boil inside him.

"Dean, it is no concern of yours," Castiel said evenly. "We were going to figure it out on our own." But he couldn't fool Dean. The hunter could hear uncertainty behind the cool demeanor.

"Not my concern? Hell, it is my concern, Cas." Dean snapped at him, hoping he didn't sound hurt. "If my best friend falls in love with me, I prefer being the first one to know," He snapped and only then realized what he'd just said.

Castiel didn't miss it either, judging by his deepening blush. "I'm sorry, Dean. I should have told you. But I was afraid you would…"

"Freak out," Sam finished helpfully.

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to grasp what he'd just heard. So Cas was in love with him. And judging by his behaviour, they were in big trouble.

Suddenly very aware of his state of undress, he pulled the blanket up to cover his naked chest. "Don't worry, Cas. We'll figure it out," he said encouragingly. "We'll do research, find out what's making people fall in love and destroy it. Now let's get some sleep and decide what to do in the morning, okay?"

Castiel nodded and got out of the bed, leaving their room without saying anything else. Dean had to convince himself that it was not regret that he saw in his eyes.

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**xxx**

"I don't understand," Dean muttered around a mouthful of lemon meringue. "How could anyone not enjoy this? This is ridiculously awesome." He made an almost obscene noise, scooping another forkful into his mouth.

Castiel turned away to the window. Sitting on the other side of the booth wasn't such a good idea after all. Of course it saved him from being in very close proximity to Dean, but it also gave him a full view of the facial expressions he made devouring his food.

"Dean, stop making those noises; you're embarrassing the customers," Sam said from behind his laptop.

Dean ignored that. "Did you find anything new on our case?"

"Nothing useful. I'll have to check the local library. I also called Bobby and explained to him what happened. He promised to find out everything he can."

"You told Bobby?" Castiel covered his face with his hands. "Great. Just… great."

"What was I supposed to say?" Sam tried to justify himself. "That it's me who fell in love with Dean?"

"Hey, don't worry, it will be alright." Dean gave Castiel an encouraging smile. "At worst we will have to burn the entire house, right? Meanwhile," he moved his plate with the remaining meringue closer to Cas. "Try this. Being in love doesn't mean you have to starve, you know." He pulled another one with apple pie towards himself.

Dean was unusually cheerful that day. Castiel wasn't sure whether it was really so or just his cursed imagination, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed watching the wrinkles that appeared in the corners of his eyes every time Dean smiled and the sound of his laugh. It was surprising how he hadn't thought about all those things before.

"I'm not really hungry." Castiel couldn't help but smile at him.

"Dude, you can't run on coffee all day." Dean sounded concerned, even though he tried to hide it. "We can get you something else if you don't like pie."

Castiel shook his head. "Pie is okay." To prove his point, he took a fork and dug in.

The taste was sweet mingled with the sourness of lemon. Castiel decided that he liked it. He wondered briefly if Dean would taste like that if he kissed him and blushed, catching the man's eyes studying his face. Sitting in front of him was a very bad idea.

"Good, huh?" Dean was still keeping his eyes on Cas' face.

Luckily for Castiel, a waitress approached them with more plates, and that distracted him.

"How many of those are you going to eat?" Sam stared at all the plates. "Too much sugar will kill you some day."

Dean grinned. "Dying of a pie overdose is all I could wish for."

Sam continued looking at him suspiciously. "What's up with you?"

Dean shrugged. "Nothing." He lifted a piece of paper left by the waitress. "Hey, guess who got that chick's phone number?"

Castiel felt something grip his chest tightly from the inside, and suddenly it was very hard to breathe.

"Seriously, Dean?" Sam accused. "You can think about that when Cas needs our help?"

"Hey, relax, I just…Cas? Cas, you okay?" He noticed Castiel close his eyes and wrap his arms around himself.

"What is it, Cas?" Sam shook his shoulder carefully.

"I'm fine," Castiel muttered. It was a lie. Whatever that dreadful stinging inside his chest was, it didn't fall under the description of 'fine'.

Sam checked the local library, but it gave nothing, only confirmed what they had already known. There was nothing else left for them to do but wait for news from Bobby.

Dean insisted that they take the evening off and stay in. Castiel suspected that he did it for him; he saw the worried looks the hunter was throwing in his direction after what had happened in the diner. And even though he had left before anybody could suspect anything, he knew it was only a matter of time until he lost control over his actions.

The urge to be closer to Dean grew with every hour. Every time he got into his personal space, Castiel's heart started hammering in his throat, making it harder to breathe. He couldn't help but throw occasional glances at Dean, and sometimes Dean caught him staring and smiled which sent wonderful warmth spreading inside Castiel's stomach. The feeling was incredible, but its intensity scared him and he hurried to get away, trying to avoid any kind of contact. He had been doing it successfully until it was time to watch Dr. Sexy M.D.

Castiel's first thought was to pretend to be sick and stay in his room, but he figured that Dean might want to check on him judging by his concerned look. Finding himself alone with Dean in a motel room wasn't something he thought he could handle.

So he settled on the edge of Sam's bed - this way there was no chance he would have to sit on the same bed with Dean. It was a perfect plan, but Dean shot it to smithereens. With popcorn in one hand and two beers in the other, he walked past his bed and flopped onto Sam's, kicking off his boots and resting his back against the headboard.

"Hey." He offered Castiel a beer.

Castiel took the beer, careful not to brush his fingers against Dean's, weighing his options. Standing up and sitting on the other bed would be too transparent, but sitting so close to Dean was risky. He had been hesitating for a while before Dean interrupted his thoughts.

"Cas, why don't you lose that stick up your ass for a change? Relax, man. We're having fun." He patted the spot on the bed next to him, inviting Cas to move there. Castiel had no other choice but to do it. He took off his shoes, crawled on the bed, and rested his back against the headboard, mirroring Dean.

Dean drew nearer so that they could share the popcorn. Their shoulders almost touched and Castiel could feel the heat from Dean's body seeping through the fabric of his shirt and pick up on the smell of his shampoo. He fixed his gaze on the TV, studying the opening credits with too much interest.

Sam came in and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his bed occupied, but said nothing and simply settled on the vacant bed.

The show started, but Castiel couldn't concentrate on it. He was too busy trying not to reach for popcorn every time Dean did, so that their fingers wouldn't accidentally touch. One time he failed which earned him another smile from Dean.

It was amazing and slightly suspicious how calm Dean was instead of freaking out as Sam and Castiel had expected him to.

He drank beer and explained to Cas what was happening on the screen. Castiel was listening with interest, enjoying the sound of Dean's voice so close to his ear and so low, almost a whisper. But after a few minutes he gave up trying to get why doctor Piccolo both loved _and_ hated Dr. Sexy.

"I don't understand," he said during the commercial break. "Why is everybody on this show so obsessed with having a romantic relationship? As far as I know there is nothing good about being in love."

Dean frowned. "Dude, there are many awesome things about it. It makes people happy."

"I'm sorry Dean, but I don't see it," Castiel said persistently. "As far as I'm aware, being in love is like being sick. You feel hungry, but you can't eat; you feel exhausted, but you can't sleep. You can't think of anything but the person in question. It's…irritating."

Dean gave him a long studying look. "You really think so, don't you." It was not a question but a statement.

Castiel shrugged. "That's just what I feel." The words hung in the air between them, turning into an awkward pause.

Castiel saw contemplation in Dean's eyes and his suspicions were confirmed when Dean sighed and set the half empty bowl aside, moving closer to him. "Come here." There was so much determination in his voice that Sam glanced at him, curious.

Castiel tried to figure out Dean's intentions, but the hunter's face was unreadable. At that distance he could make out every freckle, every little wrinkle; he could practically count Dean's eyelashes. It caught Castiel's eyes that his lips were reddened, probably because of the popcorn.

Dean licked them as if reading his thoughts. "It can be good, Cas." His voice was even, perhaps a little hoarse. "I can prove it."

"Dean, are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam asked, apparently having a better idea of what his brother was up to.

"Shut up." Dean didn't even look at him. "I'm not gonna let Cas think there's nothing good about being in love. It's not his fault it happened like this." There was a hint of anger in his voice, not at Sam or Castiel, but at the situation in general. "Turn around, Sam."

Sam hurried to do so. Dean put one hand on Castiel's cheek, his thumb resting at the corner of his mouth. "Now don't freak out on me, okay?"

Castiel nodded, not entirely trusting his voice. The touch of Dean's hand sent sparks of electricity all over his body. The gesture gave him an idea of what Dean was going to do, and the anticipation of it made him dizzy.

Finding no rejection is his eyes, Dean swayed closer and pressed their lips together, letting Castiel taste the salt from the popcorn and something else that was Dean himself. He didn't push, didn't go further, so Castiel did it himself, parted his lips and let him in, knowing that there would be no other chance to do it again. Dean accepted it as an invitation and deepened the kiss by tangling his fingers in Cas' hair, changing the angle. Castiel gasped and curled his fingers around the collar of Dean's shirt, pulling him closer.

It was addictive, intoxicating, and soon every coherent thought abandoned him. He became insistent, pushed Dean slightly against the headboard, and Dean let him explore, threw his head back, giving him better access. Castiel took all that he offered, and there was an urgency in his movements that gave away that he wanted more.

Neither of them could tell how much time had passed before they parted, but when they did they both were out of breath. They stared into each other's eyes, unaware of their surroundings. Castiel glanced down at Dean's swollen lips that were now a dark shade of pink; his hair was messed up, and Castiel felt a little proud for managing to do this to him.

"Well?" Dean finally asked.

"Well what?" Castiel made an effort to remember what had they been talking about in the first place.

"Do you still think that being in love is like being sick?"

Castiel licked his lips. "Your… arguments were very persuasive." Only now did he notice that he was practically sitting in Dean's lap and hurried to get away.

Dean sat up straight, lowering his eyes. "Glad to hear that," he muttered. Remembering his brother, he glanced in his direction.

Sam was staring at them with wide eyes, carrying the facial expression of a train wreck witness – horrified but unable to look away.

Nobody talked through the rest of the show, but neither one of them paid attention to what was happening on the screen.

The good thing for Castiel was that Dean gave up invading his personal space; he barely even talked. They kept a considerable distance between them for the rest of the evening.

"Tell me Bobby found something," Castiel pleaded when Sam hung up.

But Dean could already tell by his brother's facial expression that there was no good news.

"Sorry." Sam made a helpless gesture. "Bobby said there is no other way to break the curse besides destroying the object that caused it. So the only way is to find that object."

Castiel let out a frustrated sigh. "It could take weeks. I will die from the lack of sleep until then." He finished his coffee in one large gulp.

"Don't worry; soon you will be too exhausted to resist it." Dean gave him an encouraging smile. He didn't look much better than Castiel that morning. His cheeks were pale, making the freckles on his face more visible; dark shadows lay under his eyes. His food was untouched.

"I hope it won't happen in the middle of a hunt," Castiel muttered gloomily.

Dean reached out across the table and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Cas. We've been in situations much worse than this."

Castiel's lips curved in a small smile. "Thank you. But I would like to figure it out as soon as possible."

"I thought you said I was convincing," Dean said flippantly. "And you're still so eager to get rid of it." Although his tone was playful, there was also a hint of resentment in it. He looked at Castiel expectantly, waiting for a reply.

This was very strange. Castiel held his stare, thinking of why Dean would seriously ask something like that. "Dean, my situation isn't exactly…"

"Hello, guys," sounded above their heads. All three of them lifted their eyes to find a waitress – the one that had given her phone number to Dean the day before – standing by their table. "Hey, Dean." She smiled at him sweetly. Castiel's stomach did a somersault. "You know, when I gave you my number I thought you might call," she almost sang, smile never fading away from her face.

Dean smiled back at her sheepishly. "It was a busy day."

"Oh, I see," the girl mouthed. "How about today? I've got an early shift. Say, at seven?"

There was a moment when Castiel thought Dean threw a glance at him, but it was so quick there had probably never been one. Dean's facial expression showed that he was going to refuse, say that they had work to do or find any other excuse. But he didn't. "Sure, why not."

The waitress beamed at him. "Great. See you then." She left, leaving a deafening silence at the table.

Sam was the one to break it. "You just said we had work to do."

Dean shrugged. "I won't be long."

Sam scoffed at that. "Yeah, right. What's up with you, Dean?"

"Nothing." But the defensiveness in his voice betrayed him.

"You look like crap," Sam pointed out. "And you haven't touched your breakfast."

"Maybe I'm not hungry."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? Not hungry?"

"Okay, fine." Dean grabbed his fork and stuffed a large bite of half-cold bacon in his mouth. "Happy?" He muttered.

Sam gave him a stern look but didn't reply.

"Besides," Dean continued, "I bet we will figure it out today." He turned to Cas who had gone suspiciously quiet. "Don't worry, buddy. We will cure you."

**xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

They spent the whole day at the mansion, looking through it once again, but that accomplished nothing. The house was full of old furniture, books, clothes, and household stuff, but the keepers couldn't say exactly which ones belonged to the owners and which did not. Finally exhausted, they called it quits and decided to continue the next day.

Dean left for his date, and Sam promised to look through the old newspapers one more time. Castiel offered to help him, but after an hour he realized there was no point in that. There were lots of newspapers from that time, but none of them contained information they needed.

He left the motel to catch a breath of fresh air and sat cross-legged on the hood of the Impala. The night was chilly, and Castiel only had a t-shirt on, but he liked the feeling of cold against his skin. It cleared his head while he pondered over the events of the last few days.

It was becoming obvious that they were at a dead end with their research. Sam didn't say anything, but Castiel saw the enthusiasm die in his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he would be able to stand it. The burning ache inside his chest worsened every time he thought about Dean and the waitress. After what had happened the day before, after Dean had showed him how good it could be – even though he did it with the best intentions in mind — Castiel wasn't sure he could handle it. And what if they did not figure it out? What if he would have to live with it? How long would he manage to stand seeing Dean with different women? All these emotions were new to him, and now he wasn't even sure he could bear them. He looked up at the night sky and let out a sigh. Being human wasn't easy. It's hard to live when the future is so vague.

"I thought you were doing research," a familiar voice sounded from behind. He could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Dean?" He turned his head, surprised. "I thought you were on a date."

"Yeah, well." Dean walked towards the car and stood, leaning against the hood, crossing his arms on his chest. "Cancelled it." He gave Castiel a smile. "Figured I'd help you with the research."

"Thank you. But I believe there is no point in that. You might want to get back to your date."

"Nah." Dean lifted his eyes to the inky darkness of the sky sprinkled with stars. "Someone else was on my mind anyways."

That statement caught Castiel off guard. Did Dean mean what he thought he did? And why would he say something like that? That was impossible. He decided not to dwell on that; maybe Dean would just let the issue go. But he didn't. "Don't you wanna know who?" he continued.

"Should I?" Castiel couldn't help but sound slightly resentful.

Dean took a step closer, standing right in front of him, and put a hand on his naked forearm. "Dude, it's cold out here. You might want to put something on before you freeze."

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic. "I've been to places much colder than this, Dean. You should have seen the North Pole."

Dean's thumb started rubbing small circles into his skin, and it instantly covered with goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold. "Yeah, but you weren't…" He didn't finish.

"Was not what? Weak? Human?" Castiel fixed his eyes on Dean's, waiting for the answer.

Dean returned the look. "That is not what I was going to say." He put the other hand on Cas' shoulder and pulled him closer. Castiel gasped a little in surprise but didn't resist. He had to put his arms around Dean to make the position less uncomfortable, and Dean put his arms around him, turning it into a hug. Castiel couldn't complain. Dean was warm, and the smell of him was making him lightheaded. He drew in a long breath to steady his racing heart.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered in the crook of Dean's neck. He had to ask, even though he was reluctant to break the sheltered atmosphere of the moment. But if this was one of Dean's ways of showing him that being in love was 'awesome', Castiel didn't want it.

Dean didn't reply. Not with words anyway. Instead he leaned in and placed a kiss on Cas' lips. It was chaste - nothing like the kiss they had shared the night before – just a gentle touch that didn't linger, and then Dean drew back, pressing their foreheads together.

"Oh," Castiel breathed out in realization. And then it was him who closed the distance between their mouths.

This time it was needy, messy, and hot. Castiel hung his legs from the edge of the car, Dean standing between them. They grasped at each other, fingers tangling in hair, pulling at each other's clothes, soft moans filling the air around them.

"Cas, Cas, wait," Dean managed in between kisses. Castiel froze, squeezing his eyes shut. There it was. Now Dean would say that it was all a mistake, that they shouldn't do this. He wanted to get away, to disappear, and to avoid the embarrassment and awkwardness that would follow.

Instead, Dean lowered his head, nibbling at the skin of Cas' neck, and then murmured in his ear, "How about we take this somewhere more comfortable?"

Castiel didn't remember how they reached his motel room. The next thing he knew, he was struggling with the key in the lock with one hand and grasping at the collar of Dean's shirt with the other, unable to tear himself away from his mouth. They stumbled over the threshold together and headed for the bed, falling on it in a mess of entangled limbs and gasps.

Castiel leaned back into the mattress, reveling in the feeling of Dean's tongue and teeth moving from his jaw down his neck. He stroked Dean's short cut hair, enjoying the way it slightly tickled between his fingers. Dean's body was solid warmth that pressed him down into the sheets, rousing sensations Castiel had never experienced before.

He helped Dean to get rid of their clothes, numb fingers fidgeting with disobedient buttons, tearing off those that wouldn't give in. Garments were hastily thrown on the floor, and soon both of them were completely naked.

Dean hovered over the bed for a brief second, taking in the sight that lay before him. His cheeks were flushed, lips sore, hair messed up like Castiel has never seen it before. "You're beautiful," he whispered, and Castiel smiled, not because he had to, but because he could no longer keep the overwhelming joy that grew inside him contained. Dean bent down to kiss him. It was sloppy, hurried, and perfect.

Everything about Dean was perfect. Every time Castiel thought that he was at the limit, that it could not be better, Dean proved him wrong, sending him to places he had never been before. Castiel realized why humans were so eager for it. The whole world shrank to the size of the small room where Dean moved over him in a delightful rhythm, body flushed and glistening in the light that came through the murky window. For once it didn't matter why they were doing this or what forced them to do it. They were in this together – Dean and Castiel – and for the first time since it had started, Castiel didn't regret any of it; now he knew he wasn't alone in this. Somewhere in between half-consciousness and the moment of bliss where he chanted Dean's name like a prayer, fisting the damp sheets underneath him, the realization struck.

He didn't want this to end.

Dean rolled away from Cas, still breathing heavily, and placed a lazy kiss on his lips. Castiel kissed him back, regretting the loss of warmth when his wet skin came in contact with the cool air. He turned to his side so that they were lying face to face and looked into Dean's eyes.

"Hey." Dean smiled and put his hand on the nape of Cas' neck, fingers playing with the soft, damp hair.

Castiel's eyelids were so heavy he barely managed to keep his eyes open. The lack of sleep within the last few days finally reminded him of itself. After a few seconds he gave up fighting.

"Sleepy now?" Dean murmured and placed another kiss on Cas' temple.

"Mmmh," Castiel replied into the pillow. He felt Dean's arm wrap around his waist and pull them closer.

A sudden thought flashed across his mind when Castiel was already falling into oblivion.

"Dean?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean's groggy voice told him that he was also already half-asleep.

"So who was it?"

Dean was confused. "Who was what?"

"Who was on your mind all evening?"

Castiel heard a quiet laugh and felt another kiss on his lips.

Dean woke up to the sound of his cell phone coming from somewhere on the floor. He wanted to ignore it, reluctant to leave the snug warmth the bed and the body curled next to him provided, but it kept ringing persistently.

"Dean? Where are you?" his brother's voice asked from the phone when Dean finally found it in the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"Uh," I'm in the next room in bed with our ex-angel friend. "Not far. Why? What time is it?"

"Around ten." Sam sounded a little agitated, but Dean was still too sleepy to dwell on it. "Meet me in the diner in fifteen minutes?"

Dean glanced at his reflection in the mirror. "Make it thirty." First he needed a hot shower.

"Okay, see you then." Sam hung up.

Dean turned back to the mop of hair darkening his pillow. Bright blue eyes were looking up at him, and Dean felt a little guilty for talking too loud and waking Cas up.

"Morning," Castiel murmured sleepily and shifted the blanket to cover his bare shoulders from the cool air.

"Hey." Dean beamed at him. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's fine. Otherwise I'd have slept for ages." Castiel smiled at him fondly, and Dean had a hard time keeping himself from crawling back under the blanket.

"Sam wants to see me; I have to go before he comes here looking for you," he said, not sure who he was convincing more – himself or Cas. Staying in bed with Cas all day sounded more than just appealing.

Castiel nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I'll be right behind you."

"Seems like somebody got laid last night." Sam quirked an eyebrow at his brother, taking in the blissful smile on Dean's face. Dean didn't care; he couldn't help himself.

But then Sam's facial expression turned to accusation. "You should have seen Cas last night when you left. I tell you, man, he was crushed. I've never seen him like that before. I didn't know what to do."

Dean smirked. "Oh, don't worry, Sam. Cas is just fine."

Sam frowned. "How do you know? You just left with that girl without a word. Do you have any idea what he's been going through lately?" His tone was downright reproachful.

Dean opened his mouth to say that he had a damn good idea but didn't finish. The waitress – the one he'd had an appointment with – approached their table and asked what she could get them. She was smiling, but that smile had nothing in common with the one she'd given them the day before.

Sam was giving her their order when Castiel appeared in the doorway. He brushed past the waitress, giving her no more than a brief glance, and slid into the booth next to Dean. His hair was still a little damp from the shower, and he smelled like the soap Dean had used half an hour ago.

"Good morning," he said lazily and then reached out and kissed Dean on the lips, not-so-accidently slipping his tongue in his mouth.

At first Dean froze in surprise but then went with it and kissed him back. He couldn't deny Cas a little surge of possessiveness. "Morning," he greeted when they finally parted.

An awkward silence hung above the table. Both the waitress and Sam were staring at them with wide eyes.

Dean was the one to break the silence. He cleared his throat. "And another coffee, please," he said to the girl with perfect calm.

Castiel shook his head. "I need something more than that to get my energy back up," he said meaningfully; the corners of his lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. "I'll have what Dean is having," he finally decided.

The waitress wrote down their order and hurried away.

"What was that?" Sam looked dumfounded.

Castiel helped himself to Dean's coffee. "Dean hasn't told you yet?"

"Told me what?"

"That he was cursed, too. In the mansion."

"What?" both Dean and Sam cried out.

"Dean, why didn't you tell me?" Sam asked his brother.

Dean was still staring at Cas. "I didn't…"

Castiel put his hand on Dean's and squeezed it reassuringly. "It's alright, Dean. I think Sam should know."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam interrupted them. "Don't worry, Dean, it doesn't matter now anyways. I found the way to fix it."

"You… did?" Both Dean and Castiel turned their attention to him.

"Yeah." Sam smiled victoriously. "Sorry I didn't say that earlier. The waitress distracted me."

Castiel's fingers loosened their grip on Dean's, and he slowly moved his hand away. Blood was pounding in Dean's ears, and the rest of what Sam said was vague.

He found out that there was a casket kept in the house with the lock of Maurice's hair he gave Lydia the day he went to war. Sam was sure that was the object that kept his ghost in the house. Getting the casket was easy and burning the hair was even easier.

The rest happened in a blur. They broke into the museum that same night and stole the casket. None of them talked. Castiel didn't even look in Dean's direction, preferring to retreat into himself. It was driving Dean mad.

"Are you guys ready?" Sam asked, holding a lighter over the bucket where they had placed the lock of hair.

"Sam, can you give us a minute?"

"Sure." Sam nodded. "Take your time."

Dean took hold of Castiel's wrist, not giving him time to protest, and pulled him aside.

"What is it, Dean?" Castiel frowned at him.

"Cas, I just…" Suddenly Dean forgot all that he'd been going to say. "I just want to make sure that we're cool. We are, right?"

Castiel nodded. "I believe so."

"I just don't want things to be awkward between us, you know?" That was so not what he wanted to say. But standing face to face with Cas, looking him in the eyes – that was too much. Dean mentally called himself a coward. "I want you to know that I won't regret it. Any of it," he added meaningfully.

Castiel studied him for a while. "Neither will I." He squeezed Dean's shoulder lightly and stepped aside, letting him know that the conversation was over.

They burnt the lock and took off, heading for the motel. Dean threw occasional glances at Cas through the rear view mirror, but their eyes never met. Castiel curled up in the backseat, claiming that he finally could sleep and spent the whole ride with his eyes closed. Sam didn't talk much either. Not that they talked a lot during car rides, but this time the silence was tense.

After that, Sam suggested that they take a break and stay at Bobby's for a while. He said that all of them needed rest after what had happened, and Bobby's place was the best option. Besides, they didn't have any new hunts.

Dean didn't want rest. He knew it wouldn't help distract him, but Sam eventually convinced him that Cas needed it as he hadn't had any rest ever since he became human.

Bobby didn't ask any questions. Dean knew that Sam had probably told him everything, but he was nevertheless grateful that nobody reminded him of it again. Castiel was enough of a reminder, thank you very much. Sometimes Dean wondered whether he too thought about what had happened between them. Even if he did, he never showed it.

Days passed, nothing happened, and finally the awkwardness and the tension between them started to subside.

Bobby insisted that they stay longer at his place. It was a week before Christmas, and it was the first time in a while that nobody was dying or going to Hell, which was a good enough reason to celebrate. Somehow everybody agreed. Dean couldn't remember the last time they'd had a full Christmas vacation. Besides, it was Cas' first Christmas as a human, and both Dean and Sam wanted to make it good for him.

One evening Dean even decided to make a pie, a real one, made from scratch. This was very weird because he wasn't fond of cooking. The last time he remembered making pie it was for a seven year old Sammy. "I'm telling you, this is gonna be the best damn pie you've ever had," he announced, mixing the ingredients in a bowl.

Sam stared at him with horror. "Yeah, right. Last time you said so, I was sick for a week."

Castiel let out a laugh, glancing at them from his spot at the kitchen counter. He looked amused.

"Don't listen to him, Cas. You're gonna love it, I promise." Dean wasn't sure what had gotten into him, but he was in an amazingly good mood for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, maybe the few good memories of childhood that had been stirred up. "You're not gonna get any pie, Sam," he teased.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Good for me."

Dean ignored him. "Cas, would you pass me the flour, please?" He waved in the direction of the counter.

Castiel set aside his mug and took the flour, passing it to Dean.

"Thanks." Dean took it and reached out to place a chaste kiss under Cas' jaw. Only then did he realize what he'd just done. Castiel froze, staring at him in shock.

"Uh, sorry," Dean said sheepishly and felt his cheeks burn.

"It's… fine," Castiel replied automatically, then turned around and left the kitchen without any other words.

Dean felt like an idiot. He'd spoiled everything. They had just started to fall into the old routine, and now Castiel could be thinking anything and freaking out. All of that because Dean let his guard down once, let himself relax. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Castiel didn't come out from his room all evening. Dean wanted to go check on him but then decided to give him some time alone.

Dean needed a distraction, and after pacing restlessly around the house for an hour he took Sam's laptop. What could be a better distraction than visiting ? But something caught his attention before he opened a new window in the browser. There was an already opened website, and what was written there made Dean jump.

"Sam? Sam!" He stormed into the kitchen where Sam and Bobby were.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked, surprised. Then he saw the laptop and recognition flashed in his eyes.

"What the hell is this?" Dean almost shouted, dropping the laptop on the table before his brother.

"That's my laptop," Sam said without blinking.

"No, I mean this." Dean pointed at the screen. "That's a friggin' X-files website with an episode transcript. And it's all here." He poked the screen with his index finger. "The story you told us about the mansion, it's all here, word for word. Even the names are the same. And this…" He switched to another open window. "Is the address of the mansion, but guess what? There is nothing about Maurice and Lydia in here." He glared down at his brother, feeling as if he were going to explode.

Sam scratched the back of his head. "Uh, yeah, about that. I was going to tell you." He smiled sheepishly. "I kinda made it all up."

"You what?" Dean couldn't believe his ears. "Why?"

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean." In his defense, he sounded genuinely sorry. "I got tired of you and Cas dancing around each other all this time. Even before he started hunting with us I saw the way you looked at him. And I saw the way he looked at you. But you both are so oblivious and stubborn; you would never have admitted that." He looked up at Dean. "I just wanted to help. Thought you would figure it out on your own eventually."

Dean couldn't believe it. He stood dumbfounded, staring at his brother, unable to say a word. Pieces of the puzzle slowly connected, making the whole picture clear. How Sam did almost all the research and talked to the witnesses and Bobby. Which reminded him…

He turned his attention to the older man. "Bobby? You were on this, too?"

Bobby shrugged. "It was Sam's idea. But I'd seen this thing going on between you two for a long time, so when he suggested that, I thought it was a good idea."

"I can't believe it." Dean ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. "Let me get this straight," he said. "There was no curse?"

Sam shook his head. "No curse. I just had to hope that one of you was impressionable enough to believe in it. And I have to admit I thought it would be you, not Cas."

"Cas." Dean suddenly remembered that he still didn't know anything. He ran out of the kitchen, calling for him. "Cas! Cas, you bastard! Come down here!"

Castiel appeared on the top of the stairs. "Dean? What happened?" He looked startled.

"Cas, it was all a lie," He blurted out, running up the stairs.

"What was a lie?" Castiel frowned, not getting it, but took a step towards Dean.

"The house. The curse." Dean wasn't getting any more coherent. "Sam made it all up. There was no curse, Cas." He grinned probably the stupidest grin ever.

"But… I don't understand…" Castiel looked confused. "I didn't make it up. I _was_ in love with you, Dean."

"I know," Dean breathed out and entered Cas' personal space. "That means you still are," he whispered, looking into the brilliant blue eyes.

Castiel frowned. "But… how do we know for sure?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Dean smirked. "There is only one way to find out." He lifted his head – Cas was still standing on the upper step —and kissed him gently. Castiel's lips parted and let him in. Dean gasped and put his hands on his hips, pulling them closer.

"Well?" he asked when they parted. Instead of answering, Castiel kissed him again. "I'll take that as a yes." Dean laughed, pressing their foreheads together.

"I don't know, Dean," Castiel murmured with fake doubt in his voice, fingers playing with the collar of Dean's shirt. "We need to make sure." He grinned and dragged Dean upstairs towards his room.

"How about we get some groceries?" Sam asked Bobby. "I think this will take a while. I don't need any mental images of what's going on up there."

"Hell yeah," Bobby agreed eagerly, looking around for his car keys. "I hope those idjits don't ruin my carpet."

Sam laughed. "I wouldn't be too hopeful."

The End


End file.
